


Hypnagogic

by skydork (klismaphilia)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Asexuality, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, M/M, Overstimulation, Partial Mind Control, Partner Betrayal, Physical Abuse, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/skydork
Summary: Kylo has needs that Hux is incapable of returning.Or: The one where Kylo Ren hypnotizes his ambivalent partner into having sex with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missabigailhobbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missabigailhobbs/gifts).



> PLEASE READ ALL ADDITIONAL TAGS
> 
>  
> 
> Cross posted to my Tumblr (@symphorophilian). For Kate, who prompted me for a fic with Kylo conditioning Hux with hypnotism to want sex.
> 
> <3 I'm glad you liked it hunbun.

When Kylo Ren had first met General Hux, he’d loathed him.

 

Hux was unerringly obedient, a conformist in a uniform who seemed scarcely capable of  _ wanting  _ something, much less when he was already so bogged down by his own thought patterns. It was one of the reasons Kylo had always loathed him-- loathed his sycophantic personality, his desire to be  _ venerated,  _ to be praised for his deeds that were decidedly less individual and more  _ militaristic  _ than they should be. 

 

The General seemed to hold himself on a pedestal, far above everyone else he interacted with, always sharp lines and pressed fabric, slicked-back hair held tight in place and belt fastened too-tight around his waist. The spitting image of what he supposed an authoritarian leader needed to be-- the image of his  _ father,  _ Commandant Hux, a man who upheld himself in much the same manner as the younger now did, though perhaps with less drawbacks.

 

However, as stringent and nearly  _ prudish  _ as Hux seemed to be, even his mind held uncertainty. A nervousness, wrought of insecurities and fears-- the fear of  _ weakness,  _ and of  _ failure,  _ as Kylo had come to find. Not wildly different from his own, he knew, though Hux’s persona was controlled with a finesse that Ren had never bothered with in the first place; repressed thoughts and emotions stuffed underneath the clasps of his uniform, all carefully tethered. Hux was splitting apart with it, undone at the seams, though the General would rather perish than admit it.

 

Originally Kylo hadn’t been certain of how to approach the subject after Starkiller; he’d begun with an argument, something meant to set fire beneath the General’s feet and spark him to project his own thoughts. The effort, while possibly not a  _ reasonable  _ method of communication, was only half successful in drawing the desired effect from Hux. The ginger had merely pushed Kylo away with a few barked out words, irately fending him off in an attempt to temper down his own inner turmoil as much as possible.

 

It had taken months for Hux to actually open up;  _ months,  _ and it was the loss of the Finalizer which finally seemed to break him, the General collapsing into Kylo’s arms one night, no longer capable of maintaining the splintered persona he’d displayed for years. He’d been thrashing about, filled to the brim with  _ enmity,  _ rage and anger and  _ vitriol  _ for the Knight who had taken everything. The  _ traitor,  _ and that  _ girl,  _ the ones who decimated any  _ potential  _ he’d ever had, years gone within a matter of hours.

 

Kylo had tucked Hux tight into his arms, one hand tangled in that bright, rose-gold hair, thumbing over his cheeks as they’d kissed, languid and drowsy and thoughtless. Hux was so  _ soft--  _ thin, with unblemished flesh, the type of body that had hardly seen battle. Kylo had enjoyed it, thumbing at his pale skin, kissing his way down the column of Hux’s throat until the other had arched into him,  _ moaned… _

 

“Wait.” Hux said to him. Then, sharper, when Kylo’s arm slid around his waist. “No,  _ wait.” _

 

“Hux?” Kylo questioned; he hated the sound of his own voice without the vocoder, how it pitched, scratching in the back of his throat, as if he’d done something wrong. Something--  _ wrong.  _ And why would it matter anyway? He and Hux weren’t close-- weren’t close, hardly knew each other…

 

“Can we just… like this?” Hux attempted to articulate. His lip stilled as he favored it with teeth, raw and split from frequent biting. “No sex. I’m not comfortable with that level of intimacy.”

 

“Yeah,” the Knight replied, eying his co-commander’s flushed cheeks, that violet-shaded throat and ruffled ginger hair. “That’s… that is probably for the best.” He’d pulled himself away from Hux, rolled over so his back was to the General, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he willed down his erection. This was--  _ infuriating.  _ Infuriating, and something that by all rights would have had him drowning his sorrows in holomags and excessive training had he been on his own.

 

He wasn’t. Hux pressed against his back, a lithe form squeezed against the flex of his shoulderblades, and Kylo had relented, turning to embrace the General within his overlarge arms, thumbing along frail, trembling shoulders in a manner reminiscent of a lover. Hux was nearly sweet, like this, pulling close to himself and tucking his body to Kylo’s. He shuddered, one arm shifting the blankets until they covered his body near completely.

 

“Thank you for understanding, Ren,” Hux whispered. “Perhaps… I was wrong, to call you a loathsome brute. You have some redeeming qualities.”

 

Kylo had chuckled, brushed it off; it was  _ decent,  _ surely, something most anyone would do if asked. Hux was tormented, in need of a lover, a caretaker, a  _ protector-- _

 

It hadn’t stopped him from wanting.

 

* * *

 

The General was far more emotionally distraught than anyone would have given him credit for. While he usually displayed a mask of stoicism, a practiced disgust for those around him, his behavior around Ren had long since been spontaneous and irritable. Whereas he could snap at other officers without fear of being reprimanded or pressed back, Ren was of a rank similar to his, at least for whatever Snoke’s system detailed.

 

Kylo had enjoyed the authority when it came to pushing Hux’s boundaries before; but now, when he was confronted with a slight form curled beside him in a normally cold bed, trembling beneath even the lightest touches laid over his fair skin, he relished their  _ equity.  _ It was, after all, this even ranking between them which allowed Hux to show his back to Ren at night, to tuck frail limbs around him in a show of vulnerability commonly left neglected.

 

Hux never acknowledged it-- tried his best not to, as he busied his mind with reports and waved Ren from his chambers each morning with a quip about having to  _ sort his priorities.  _ The acid in his tone was undeniable, but his frail figure spoke differently at every caress and gentle touch of Kylo’s knuckles, each brush of fingertips along his ghastly-pale skin…

 

And Armitage thought he was weak, projected it, with his eyes glinting as they glared vacantly past Kylo’s shoulder, shoulders trembling  _ up-down up-down _ with sobs that never came once Kylo had the gall to drape an arm around his stiff back, press into the tight muscles.

 

Perhaps it was the fear of weakness which left Hux in denial of himself.

 

Every time Kylo had attempted to do more than merely hold Armitage, he’d jolted, frantic with discomfort. If the touch proved to escalate beyond a simple stroke of his fingers over protruding bones and Hux’s fine jaw, carding through his ginger hair and massaging his stiff neck, Hux had removed himself with alarm. His mind wasn’t distressed as far as Kylo could tell; merely  _ distant, _ almost indifferent. Even within the heavy confines of a makeout, hands roaming each other’s bodies and lips parting with heady sighs, Hux had seemed withdrawn, half himself--  _ unaroused.  _

 

It is only after numerous, fading months have passed, months of lessened intimacy and uncertain breaches of Hux’s mind, that Kylo finds himself in  _ need.  _ Longing that borders on desperation, chaotic when it claws at his skin whenever he’s underneath thin sheets and Armitage is curled around his side. Perhaps Kylo would even call it an unerring  _ possessiveness.  _ He needs to  _ see  _ the General beneath him, stretched and writhing. To feel those nails digging into the skin of his back, to watch as Hux is caught by the throes of pleasure. And for  _ him,  _ always,  _ only  _ him.

 

He  _ needs  _ to feel Armitage submit.

 

To hold that power, to be shown that surreal-sort of devotion and intimacy that the General is naturally hardpressed to give… wouldn’t it be beautiful? Kylo is emotional by nature, spurned and driven by passion. And it is, of course, sex, which furthers passion absolutely. Why should he hide his desires, when Hux is so loud and so needy and so  _ feeble  _ that Kylo couldn’t help being drawn to him? Why was it Armitage saw it fine to continue working through his regular duties, purely from spite and callousness, without understanding the strength found through passion and intercourse?

 

Kylo assumes that some part of him should feel bad, that night, when his hand slips around the back of his pseudo-lover’s neck, thumbing along the soft strands of hair that are for once free, unslicked by the usual pomade. Hux’s breath is heavy against his neck, still lost to sleep, and Kylo only has to press subtly at the corner of his dream to insert a thought.

 

_ You want me. _

 

_ (Like I want you. _ )

 

* * *

 

Waking from the drifting lucidity of slumber is often uneventful, for as long as it takes the Knight to drag himself from bed and face the world once his mind has finally known a sense of ease. This waking appears different, as Kylo is, for once, not merely greeted by a cold set of sheets beside him, the rush of water in the fresher, the ping of a datapad…

 

No; he is woken, abruptly, by a set of hips slid flush across his own, the jilted, sudden movements of another’s body straddling his own. Legs are spread across his thighs, soft whimpers erratically dotting the space between himself and--  _ Hux.  _

 

The alabaster cheeks are dark with a vivid rouge, green eyes rimmed by dark circles and yet hooded in lust. The General’s lips have parted around a soundless moan, vacant and spit-slick, plush to the touch even as Kylo slides a finger to press against that pretty mouth and prompt him to open it further.

 

Instead, Hux slides his tongue over the thick digit, laving at it while his head ducks, as though motioning to the newly formed bulge in his own sleep trousers. The undershirt he usually dons while sleeping has been discarded somewhere near the end of the bed, and with one hand, he beckons Kylo to rid him of his pants as well. Their fingers are interwoven, and Hux’s other hand outlines the curve of Ren’s thighs, dips into his pants…

 

“Re-Ren--!” Hux gasps, his head falling forward and lolling against the man’s neck; brittle nails scrabble at a shoulder, aching for a perch and a method of rest. Sweat lines his brow, dripping down snow-white shoulders once Ren’s hand circles his waist, slides to grasp the plump curve of Hux’s ass. It has always been abnormally well defined, Kylo considers, as though Hux had taken careful appreciation of his minor curves over the years.

 

His teeth nip at the General’s neck, sucking fat, red-purple bruises into the expanse of flesh, tugging Hux closer and resting his back against the headboard. Better access, like this, and it is easier to ravish the squirming body in his lap, to give him the attention that Hux apparently  _ craves. _

 

“Such a minx, General.”

 

Hux trembles, tensing over Kylo’s body, his cock swollen and extended between the Knight’s abdomen and his own. He sighs, breathless, grasping for one of Kylo’s hands and pressing it behind him, dragging it over his twitching rim and attempting to maneuver Kylo to  _ touch,  _ probe, deeper and deeper, with only his motions.

 

_ “Kylo,”  _ Hux says. “Kylo,  _ please.  _ I need-- nngh, I need  _ you.” _

 

Was Hux… losing his mind? Was he caving, snapped beneath the pressure of surmounting anger and mental strain created over years of discord? 

 

_ You did this, _ Kylo’s mind reminds him.  _ Last night. You-- told him. _

 

And just then, the Knight grins. 

 

“On your back, Armitage.” He murmurs, teasing out orange hair gathered between his fingers, smirking as Hux claws at his shoulder once more, then slides back onto the bed and spreads his legs, obedient, without question.

 

Force, he is lovely. Obsequious,  _ brazen.  _

 

At once, the force-user falls atop  _ his  _ partner yet again, teasing chilled hands over warm, uncertain thighs. He traces the crease of a hip, the flex of Hux’s leg as his leaking, enflamed cock juts from between his legs, needing a touch, a reprieve. Kylo hikes up Hux’s legs, back and laid up on his shoulders, peppers a kiss over the taut flesh of his pelvis. Hux  _ squeals,  _ arching and rutting against each touch he is graced with, the part of a puckered, soft pink hole opening with ease at the intrusion of a finger.

 

_ He’s already stretched himself. _

 

How was it that the General, a man without physical compulsion, could grow so  _ ardent  _ at even a simple projection of thought? How is it that Hux is  _ easy,  _ a blushing blossom who gave himself aimlessly to his lust in the manner of a wanton  _ whore? _

 

With three slippery digits flexing inside of Hux’s body, Kylo is somewhere beyond discretion. Hux is painfully tight, clenching at every motion and parting his lips into a slackjawed bliss. A twinge of pain seeps through his shields, sparks at the edge of Kylo’s mind--  _ more,  _ he thinks,  _ more,  _ and Kylo is curious about how far he can take this.

 

“What do you need?” He asks Hux, imperious.

 

“I need you--”

 

_ “How do you need me?” _

 

“I need your cock inside of me!” Hux cries, and his mentality has slipped behind a smokescreen of white.

 

“And what do you  _ want?” _

 

“I want you to  _ ruin  _ me! To chain me here and… and keep me as yours, claim me and use me until I’m s-slick and  _ full.” _

 

Kylo anchors those pretty, soft wrists over Hux’s head, fastens them in place with an invisible chain at the bedpost. He’s between Hux’s thighs, over him, could do anything he wanted without a chance of Hux’s revulsion. Like this, the General becomes malleable, and amenable to anything Kylo wishes to give. He’s worn-down muscle under stretched-thin skin, trapped within his own head, and this  _ intoxication  _ is mystifying.

 

He doesn’t want to make it easy, and yet he also  _ does. _

 

It’s effortless when Kylo sinks into velvet heat, held by the hilt and enraptured in the clutch of Hux’s hole. His body is made to covet,  _ desirous _ , though he cringes as Hux keens and pulls in on himself, a single, dull tear sliding from one glassy-green orb. Somehow, this feels like an overwhelming  _ sickness,  _ as though he’s taking Hux against better odds, stripping away his sanctity with each press of his cock.

 

Rationality stops when Kylo thrusts.

 

Hux is  _ so  _ wonderful, so overtly sensitive, pleading for each jolt of something hard against his prostate, stripped of his former vitriol and dissatisfaction. He’s an asset for  _ Ren  _ now, made to be used and opened and  _ fucked,  _ and when legs hook around Kylo’s hips, a heel kicking hard into his lower back with the compellingness of motion, he’s ethereal. Kylo  _ needs-wants-longs.  _ He  _ covets-keeps-owns.  _ The only thing that matters is Hx’s voice, his cries of pleasure, his body thrumming with the pounding of his heart, urging Kylo further toward his sweet spot, adjusting his hips so as to take him deeper, put that cock where he  _ needs  _ it…

 

Kylo should fix this.

 

He can’t.

 

* * *

 

The panic only emerges when Hux does not show after two cycles. Two cycles, and Kylo has hardly seen him either, aside from the first morning, awake in Hux’s bed with the General begging him for his body, his heat, his  _ dick.  _ The look in his eyes after was vast, distant and thoughtless, incapable of processing what had taken place.

 

Like the coward he’d proven himself to be, Kylo took his leave.

 

He’d not heard anything again, aside from the irritable squabbles of officers on the bridge. Hux’s comm had been set on silent, and Kylo himself hadn’t the time to return. It was only after another full cycle passes, no comment and no signal, that he stumbles back down the corridor, truly nervous, inept in his actions.

 

Hux is lying stretched across his bed, a white sheet thrown over his lower body as some preservation of modesty. His hands clutch tightly around the black comforter, tossed away from his body, hips gyrating in unsteady circles into the mattress. Only his back is visible from this angle, soft, sickly flesh fully illuminated even with the filter of light.

 

“Kylo?” Hux questions, and his voice appears strained, nearly uncertain. “Kylo--? I was… I was wondering. When you might return. I’ve been-- feeling quite  _ voracious  _ lately… I, ah-!” 

 

Pushing ginger hair back from his face, Hux rolls onto his side, knocking an elbow into the bedframe and groaning. His eyes seem darker than before, unnaturally distorted,  _ primitive.  _ As though being urged, Hux tears the cloth of his bedding away from his body, revealing the mess of white and clear slick painting his thighs; his eyes flutter closed again, whatever he was rocking against seeming to jolt from the change in position. A flared base is visible between his legs, though only just-- Hux is cringing, messy from every angle, fucking himself onto the toy with recklessness, his cock flaccid.

 

“Armitage-” Kylo begins, and then stops short. His voice dies in his throat, dry and parched when the drive kicks in and he clambers to Hux’s bedside, reaches down to angle a hand over his forehead-- “You’re burning?”

 

_ Tired,  _ is the soundless projection.  _ So tired. Need to sleep, can’t. Not until I have you again. Not until you’re back between my legs. _

 

“Oh,  _ Ren,”  _ Hux whispers, chuckling softly to himself. “Ren,  _ please--  _ please fuck me. I’ve been  _ so  _ good for. I’ve been  _ so perfect--” _

 

His own hand slides to Kylo’s tangled mane of hair and fists there, struggling to get the Knight back on top of him--  _ where I need you--  _ make him finish what he’d begun earlier. Armitage worries his lip with his own teeth once more, scrabbling at the surface of thick cloth, urging Kylo’s hand to cup the swell of his rear, to enter him with fingers, cock, tongue-- as he wants, as he needs.

 

Kylo’s hand, instead, smacks against Hux’s shoulder. His mouth as running through words that Hux is incapable of reading, shaking him and jilting him violently, until Hux tangles legs around his waist as before and steadies him,  _ please Ren please Ren please I cant icanticant ithurtswithout youuuu youyouyou madethismademe you TRAITOR _

 

The glass replica is withdrawn from the General’s body without a second of reprieve, and near instantly, it’s being replaced-- hard, thick lines, pulsating veins, so  _ big  _ and so  _ deep.  _ And he can spill so much, and so  _ well,  _ and Hux has no method of escaping it, does he, would he even want to? Kylo told him what he wanted and Kylo knows everything, of course he does, Hux didn’t understand, never could…

 

He’s screaming, from far off, through the haze, but his body aches to the touch, and the pain slamming against his prostate is a brilliant, lucid  _ spark  _ each time. This is what he was  _ made  _ for, what he was supposed to be doing all along, and how had he forgotten it?

 

_ Ren please Ren please touch me... _

 

“-- weak--”

 

And Hux  _ screams.  _ His fists fly at the Knight’s chest, one arm spread over his face and slamming into his nose, and  _ what did you do to me? What did I do to--- why am I, why why why? _

 

Kylo is staring up at him from the floor, and Hux is still straddling him, still sinking onto him with ancient fervor and  _ cursing  _ his existence while he rides him, but he can’t  _ stop-- _

 

“You  _ monster!”  _ Hux yells. “I thought you were  _ better,  _ I told them you were, but you’re a repulsive, pathetic  _ monster!  _ What did you  _ do  _ to me, Ren, pfaasking tell me-- tell me, or I’ll  _ blow your head off!” _

 

“Hux--”

 

_ “Enough,  _ you!” The General slams on his chest, intent on causing as much pain as can be conjured, though his head spins and his body is lacking any physical capability. He falls forward, slamming his skull to Ren’s, laying bloody wounds across his neck, smacking him across the face, backhanded and stubborn.

 

Ren rubs his cheek with a thumb, and Hux is lost.

 

“I wanted  _ everything.” _

 

“You  _ had  _ everything,” Hux snapped. “You had everything, was it not enough?”

 

_ “I--”  _ And then Ren’s drawing fingers along his brow, smoothing the exhaustion from his bones and purging enmity from his blood. Hux softens, back into his arms, slipping forward and pulling Ren close to him.

 

“Please hold me.”

 

And as requested, as urged, as  _ needed,  _ Kylo wraps his arms around Armitage’s shoulders and does just that.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you're so inclined!


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